So, I didn't die and am not trapped under a pile of rubble made mostly of vodka bottles. I've just been well, out of words. It happens randomly to me when I am just utterly and completely burnt out, and it's been that way for the last week. I've just been kind of sitting places, staring at people and confused when they expect me to answer back verbally. So instead I gesticulate wildly with my arms and hope that will distract them.
Also, dear Lord with the busy. I apparently had never met myself and didn't expect to be so exhausted after all the traveling and the not being in the home and the traveling. Did I mention the traveling? Because I did a lot of it. I like to travel, I really and truly do. However, I do not like it all back to back. I like my couch, a lot. It comes with a remote to a thing I call the DVR and there are cats there. I have missed it with all the not being at home and thusly for the last week have attempted to make a permanent indentation with my ass. Hey, we all have hobbies, don't judge.
Yesterday however, I broke out of my wordless, half awake living. What did this? What could cause me to shake off the stupor and jump up and down with glee? Shoes. Pretty, Parisian, expensive shoes. If this doesn't prove that I have ovaries, nothing will. You see, I have never been a shopper which brought great sadness to my mother (her Indian name would have been She Who Shops Continuously). I didn't get retail therapy and would have chosen vodka or hell, a piece of gum over a day at the mall. Well, that has changed. Especially since I discovered Christian Louboutin shoes at a remarkable discount. Sure, I may have to live without electricity for a month or two but these shoes? These shoes are worth it. I was literally high yesterday and would answer any question with the word 'shoes'. Seriously. You want butter on your bagel, miss? Shoes. Is this your car? Shoes! It went on and on and eventually shook me out of the haze I had been living in. So, in short, I am back, I am broke and I have badass footwear.